Shotgun security system

The other night I let the dogs out before we started a movie so that (hopefully) they wouldn't bother us about their bladders in the middle of it.
Well, they start barking at absolutely nothing, as per usual, and I open the door to call them in and see a sheriff coming down the road.
Very slowly.
With a spotlight. He shines it in my yard and the dogs of course run over to the gate and start viciously barking at the sheriff. (don't you just love how dogs don't discriminate?)
His spotlight shines on them, scans across the yard and then lands on me standing in the doorway.
He pulls in to a driveway two houses down and sits there a minute. Then when the coast is clear on the road, he turns around and starts coming back. Well, if he wanted to turn into my driveway, he went too far and so he stopped a sec and then kept on driving. I don't think he came back.
So, now I'm thinking, "What in the hell are the cops doing out with a searchlight? There must be a fugitive in my backyard!"
Nathan is already in the storage room searching for the shotgun shells to load up the gun that's under the bed (hey, we're just like any normal american home, people...).
Well, he loads up the gun and puts it on my side of the bed. Oh no, cowboy. You're gonna have to do the shootin. Then I notice the extra shell sitting next to me on the bedside table.
"What's that for?"
"In case more than two come through the door."
"What!? Well Houla can take one of them..."
I'm not going to be responsible for handing my husband a shell in the middle of the night if someone is trying to kill us. I'm just not. That will only end in tears. And plenty of blood. I don't know whose, but I don't think I'll like the mess.